


I'm Still Broken

by silverwolf_fox



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, hayniss - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 07:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14351037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverwolf_fox/pseuds/silverwolf_fox
Summary: She was supposed to be okay, but the pain from the war has still left cracks within her. She ponders her loved ones, the ones she feigns happiness for, before recognizing that there is only one person that could ever understand.





	I'm Still Broken

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a way to explain why I’m so interested in Haymitch and Katniss. My little mini challenge was to not use any names.

 

Snow crunched under her feet. The winter air bit into her exposed cheeks as the wind whistled past her ears. Grey eyes flickered around the trees that surrounded her. Silence. All the creatures of the forest were safely tucked away in their burrows and nests. The area beyond the fence of District 12 had always been calming to her. A place with no liars. No pain. Just a girl and her bow. Utterly timeless, where she could pretend that nothing bad ever happened.

A snapping twig echoed in the frost-bitten air.

A gasp tore from her throat. Her heart rate quickened. Her eyes widened. Her hands pulled an arrow from her quiver and quickly notched it on her bow. She spun around, trying to find the source. To find whoever was after her. There was nothing.

It was minutes of silent, torturous suspense before she looked down. It was she herself that had stepped on a small broken branch. Tears blinked into her eyes, and her knees gave out. She sunk down to the ground, the cold, wet snow slushing against her legs. She tried to cradle her head in her hands, but her fingers refused to release their grip on the wooden weapon. They were frozen to the bow, clutching at her lifeline. There was still too much fear present. Fear of something that wasn’t even there.

Her quick pants couldn’t provide enough air so she tried to choke down larger breathes. When her breathing still didn’t ease, she yanked off her pale red scarf and tossed it to the side. She was gasping despite the frozen air that stung with every breath. She banged her fist holding the bow against the snow coated ground. She slammed it again. Her mouth opened in a silent cry. The single tear that managed to slipped down her cheek froze before it could reach her chin.

The cracks inside of her were getting worse.

They revealed what she really was.

Broken.

In the woods, it didn’t hurt as much. In her sanctuary. The place where she was free to yell and scream and cry. Because no one could know. Because she was supposed to be better.

Healing.

She thought she was.

She wasn’t.

Allowing herself one more brief moment of reflection, she forced herself back onto her feet. Water had begun to soak through her pants. The setting sun was filtering through the trees and leaves that refused to fall. It’ll be dark before too long. A few deep breaths helped to calm her down. Slipping the arrow back inside its quiver and the bow back around her shoulders, she went to pick up her scarf. She didn’t bother to brush off the snow it had collected before twisting it back around her neck; this time, the sting from the cold helped to keep her grounded.

Her fingers threaded through her hair, accidentally pulling a few brown strands out of the braid she wore. Her feet slowly trudged down the path towards town, taking care to avoid any other twigs. At the edge of town, she gripped a hand over her heart and willed the cracks to close, if only temporarily.

An empty smile pulled up the corners of her lips. Hands kept inside her pockets so that no one could see them shake. Thankfully, most people were keeping warm in their homes, but everyone braving the cold got a warm greeting. Because they didn’t know. Couldn’t know that she was still broken. 

Someone had been clearing the streets of snow.

Her husband did his best. So gentle and patient with her. He always had been. Comforting her after every nightmare. Holding her through every panic attack.

The perfect rock to stabilize her. Someone she could lean on. At first it was all she could have hoped for. Seeing him, watching his own cracks heal, gave her the hope she needed. The belief that one day she would heal, too. Each time his blue eyes met her own grey orbs, she could sense his strength. His love. He would help save her. However, as time wore on and she didn’t get better, being around him only made her feel worse. He was a bright light that she tarnished with her darkness. Everything she wished she could become but know she never would.

A constant reminder that she was cracked.

She didn’t deserve him.

But still she tried. They had two beautiful, perfect children, and she loved them with every shattered piece of herself. They were the glue she needed. Gave her a purpose beyond brutality. She gave something wonderful to the world. If she can do that, then she can heal. There is no way that someone condemned to wallow in darkness could have created such perfect babies with her beloved husband.

Except she didn’t deserve them.

She loved them. Truly.

How dreadful for two perfect, light-filled children to have such a disgrace as a mother. Every day they would hug her and tell her that they love her. Because they don’t know. They don’t know the horrors she’s seen. The things she’s done. Pure creatures cannot love a monster. Someone broken beyond repair.

She can feel the cracks grow bigger with every thought.

But she tried.

She smiled and laughed and pretended that everything was okay. That she was better than she was. It wasn’t her family’s fault that she was still broken.

The walk to the Victors’ Village filled her with dread. Another night of pretending she was okay. Of putting on her very best face so that her family wouldn’t have to worry about her. They would have dinner. Hug and kiss each other. Say goodnight. The family she loved and who they thought they loved her. Fresh snow began to fall as the sun began to disappear behind the horizon.

Darkness surrounded her.

Froze her.

Comforted her.

It was what she deserved.

The only lights came from the two houses that were occupied within the neighborhood. To the right of her was her family. Yellow light spilled from multiple windows of the house. If she tried, she knew she’d be able to hear the kids playing. A smile formed. A real one, however small it was.

Her feet began to move. Snow and ice crunched under her boots. She tugged her leather coat tighter around her.

Her hand lifted to knock on the door. A single light from the living room was the only sign that someone was even home.

He answered.

The only person who could understand.

The only person probably as fractured on the inside as she was.

His long, blond hair was streaked with grey and deep shadows were engraved under his eyes. Their grey eyes met, each haunted by shadows that no one else could ever fully understand. He looked her over, the snow in her hair, her cheeks flushed red from the chilly evening air, and the hands held out in front of her that he knew weren’t shaking from the cold. His gaze flew back to meet hers, and she knew. All the pretending she did with her family, and her old mentor was able to figure out exactly what was wrong with a single look.

Tears streaked down her cheeks. He did nothing. Knew she wouldn’t want his pity. Knew that she came to him out of necessity, not pleasure. He knew, because he felt the same way. For the longest moment neither of them spoke. They just stood there, staring at each other. She took a step forward so that her chest almost touched his. Her eyes, glazed over with tears, never left his face.

“I’m still broken,” she confessed in a voice no louder than a whisper. Saying it aloud gave such a feeling of relief that she released one easy breath before choking on her tears.

He cradled the back of her head with his hand, moving as slow as possible so that he wouldn’t startle her. They were both so easily alarmed. He gave her a weak smile and leaned down to press his forehead to hers. The stench of whiskey flowed over her.

“I know, sweetheart. We both are,” he said.

It wasn’t a message of comfort. He wasn’t that way. Wouldn’t give her some soft spoken words to make her feel better. She was broken. He was broken. And chances are that they would always be that way. But that was okay. She didn’t have to pretend with him. He understood and didn’t expect her to smile and act like everything was fine.

They could live within their cracks together.

It made them feel less broken.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a huge fan of Hayniss. It’s the idea that two damaged people can find the support and understanding they need in each other.
> 
> As a reference, this also explains my love of Barney/Robin from How I Met Your Mother to a small degree.


End file.
